The thousand souls by Daniele Del Giudice

This article is published in number 37 of Vanity Fair on newsstands until September 14, 2021

If you have never read anything about Daniele Del Giudice – a formidable writer who did not write very much but wrote very well, and who was seriously ill at 56 and left at 72, two days before receiving the Campiello Award for Lifetime Achievement -, I suggest you start from Removing the shadow from the ground or from stories Mania, even if the book that consecrated it was Wimbledon stadium, celebrated by Italo Calvino of whom Del Giudice passed for heir, who returns to the bookstore for Einaudi in November.

Wimbledon stadium spoke of a writer who did not write: Bobi Bazlen, the fascinating and indefinable man of letters who founded the Adelphi publishing house together with Luciano Foà and Calasso, and hello to Roberto Calasso who published the beautiful Bobby the very day he left, July 29th. (How many, and how precious, have gone away this summer. Carrà, Calasso, Pennacchi, Strada, Del Giudice, Degli Esposti, Watts, Theodorakis … It may be that in the summer we die more or that we pay more attention to it, or what?)
Whether it is better to live or tell if all writers ask. Del Giudice, however, had the fate of writing and living little.
He had two (or a thousand) souls and one would think they came from that missing father when he was a child who, before dying, gave him a typewriter and a bicycle. In an interview fifteen years ago he said that as a child he pedaled in the morning and in the afternoon he typed with two fingers, a bit like he did when he grew up when he flew for half of the day, a great passion of his, and the other half. he wrote.
As we all do, I too have sought my personal memory of Daniele Del Giudice, whom I briefly met many years ago and left me with an emotion that I could not describe. Claudio Magris did it for me, evoking about their meeting «the noise that the ice makes when it creaks». Do you know? It’s such a beautiful noise: crystal clear.

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